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Of course it was a bad idea to go in the portal. In what world wouldn't it be a bad idea to go in the portal? And yet, after the better part of half an hour sitting and staring at it, arms crossed over his chest and masses of the infected lurking around the horizon, Ever was finding it difficult to resist the pull of his own curiosity, to fight back against the desire to learn about something new. As far as he'd heard, no one had braved it yet -- or maybe they just hadn't braved it and come out alive, it was hard to judge.

It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Potentially even a disastrous idea. And yet, Ever couldn't quite help himself, no.

At least he tried to be safe about it. Some rope scavenged from the back of a car, tied around the door and then around his waist, served as a lifeline to haul himself back out again, if that's what it came down to. Not that he really expected that to work, but it seemed worth the effort all the same.

All his ducks in a row, and it really was just a terrible idea. Awful. But he went through. Into a world of vines.

The bad mojo feeling of this place redoubled almost immediately. At the very least it wasn't filled with wicked purple energy or monster that jumped him the second he appeared, but Ever couldn't help but remember that great monster as he'd stepped out beside the skyscraper, the feeling of vines wrapped around ankles and wrists, the look in its crazed eyes. Everyone had warned against entry, and he understood, to his very core, why they had --

Still. He was here, now, a piece of rope trailing behind him, even if it wasn't exactly the lifeline he thought it was, and he wasn't about to simply give up. So he took a step forward, hesitant, and then another, more confident, and before he knew it, he was easily moving through the greenery and the growth, albeit with Amory safe in hand. A sarcastic voice chiding him in the back of his mind, like the jittery, nervous part of his own self-conscious, berating him for every stupid decision he'd ever made. What else was new.

The growth pulled down around him, enveloping and encircling, like a great jungle, closing down the path before him until it was nothing but a narrow tunnel and then, finally, shut down entirely.

It was here he ran into Austin.

Ever was calm; Austin, in contrast, was not. His eyes were wide and panicked as he struggled to pull free of his own vines and move forward, to escape from what felt like a monstrous prison, fueled by his own memories of thorns and what had happened in strange visions. Seeing Ever should probably have reassured him, except that it came with another flicker memory, something about being kidnapped...

"He axalo ug? Haxat axalo ug peick wholo?" His words came out like angry bees, buzzing and nonsensical, and Austin's alarm only rose, apparently not placated by the calming gesture of Ever's hands. Maybe it had something to do with the creepy glowing weapon -- Ever put that down, carefully, and calmed again.

"Pum'v wholo te whorp," he replied, and then as Austin continued to babble in gibberish, Ever figured it out more quickly. He frowned, gave up on speech, and reached for his notebook instead, carefully scribbling a message down on the page --

PEVIZ FO ABLAID, it said, and with a sigh, he closed his eyes and gave up, just making soothing shushing sounds until Austin had relaxed just a bit. Those translated well enough, at least. Those he could understand. And then he stepped in, slowly, a hand outheld to shake, and the normalcy of it drove away the last of his poor civilian's panic.

Austin shook, with a shuddering breath, eyes flicking from Ever's hand up to his face to the strange trim and markings on his coat, and he bit his lip. It was inappropriately appealing. Ever let go, to swipe at his own cheek, and gestured slowly over his shoulder. He still spoke in gibberish, but tried to mime out his time --

Walking, with two fingers, through a hole. Ever came out and found Austin -- he made a pillow of his hands to show Austin had been sleeping, and threw the imagined bundle over one shoulder. A mime of running, of driving. Of monsters in the fog. It was impossible to know how much of it Austin understood, but at the very least, he was still watching warily. Ever stooped, slowly, to pick up his weapon -- and Austin didn't attack.

He blew out a puff of relief, turning his back to hold up the weapon as if he was fending off imaginary danger, and looked around to meet Austin's eyes. Questioning.

In that moment maybe, Austin got it. He opened his mouth to reply in turn, and that was the moment when Ever was flung from the portal, awakening dazed on his back beside the car, with the rope still around his waist and Austin slumped sideways in the backseat. There was no way, of course, of knowing if any of that had been real -- and so, with a sigh, he stood and gathered himself.

A stupid idea, certainly. But at least he was still alive.